Tuesday, 13 May 2008

Poem I wrote, Age 9

Found this on an old disk today and thought I'd share it with the world.
Franky the Phonebox

My name is Phonebox Franky
And I’m very tall and swanky
People often notice me
When they want to phone their wife,
To say they’ll be late for tea.

They open my door,
Step onto the floor,
And in me put 10p.
They pick up the receiver
And wanting to please her,
They say, Don’t mind if I’m late,
Do you Dear?

After a chat
They say, Goodbye Pat
And put the receiver down, gently
They step out my door
Think they’re wife is a bore
And was she really worth that 10p?

Resisting Accumulation

So I went to a beautiful wedding on Saturday. I think they will be happy together, despite being so young. It was very multi-cultural and international.
A= me, F= russian guy at wedding

F- What are you going to do after you graduate?
A- Oh, you know. Move to Michigan for summer. After that, hang out. Write stuff. Be a poet in New York. I suppose come back, get some sort of job that doesn't use up all my brain power, write some more.
F- You can make a lot of money from writing.
A- I'm not interested in making a lot of money.
F- But you will need a good house, a good car, good holidays.
A- No
F- Okay, well you will at least need a nice house, and a nice car, and nice holidays.
A- No, not really
F- You can make a lot of money from writing, you don't have to go into international business.
A- But there's no point... Desire is unfulfillable, its like energy. It can only ever be transferred, not used up. So essentially, it doesn't matter what stuff you have. The amount of desire will not diminish, you will always want to acquire more. Therefore, having stuff bears no relation to happiness.
F-... You are like one of those... hippies. But not with the environment. With life. That's weird. I'm going to go into my dad's business. But I'll be more successful than him. I'm going to drive a Bentley. He doesn't drive a Bentley.
A- I hope you will be happy.
F- I am happy. You'll need a well-paid job, though. You need to think about that.

He wasn't all bad: he had a habit of folding his cigarette butts in tissue and putting them in his pocket, so as not to leave litter.

Wednesday, 7 May 2008

Dating? On a Wednesday?

So a man called today and asked me to go on a date with him, today.
Today is Wednesday.

An extract from my diary, May 2003:
''What kind of guy dates on a Wednesday?''

I have, since May 2003, dated on Wednesdays. I've even enjoyed dates on Wednesdays.

But every time a guy invites me to go on a first date, on a Wednesday, I think its sort of weird. The rest of the days of the week are fine. Wednesdays feel so... exposed, right there in the middle.